


Absolute Zero

by leavethesky



Series: Absolute Zero - Tempus Fugit [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-03
Updated: 2011-04-02
Packaged: 2017-10-17 11:58:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leavethesky/pseuds/leavethesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story takes place in the Tempus Fugit AU. If you haven’t read S4 and S7  you may be a bit lost. And for those of you who have read them, this story takes up where S4 left off. If you remember, S7 Willow erased their first kiss and this is the two of them rewriting it.<br/>So, to refresh everyone’s memories: after interrupting Tara’s date with Rachel and learning (the hard way) that Tara is gay, Willow confessed her love, Tara didn’t believe her, it was a disaster and there was no reconciliation. No first kiss at all because Willow didn’t go back in time. It is now several days later and W/T haven’t seen each other since that terrible night…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tara woke up feeling like a terrible weight had been lifted from the world – from her. She felt…lighter. Almost like those first few weeks away from her father except that this lightening was, well, bigger. Deeper. Even though everything in her world had gone terribly, irreversibly wrong.

It had been three days since that terrible night in her dorm room. The disastrous date and Willow. Willow saying those words she had fantasized about since she had met the redhead.

 _‘I’m in love with you.’_

She had replayed that scene over and over in her mind, picking it apart, breaking it down to the lines and colors, to the elementary particles of pleading green eyes and shaking fingers.

“No you’re not,” she said aloud to the empty room and smiled in embarrassment at the words. Because it was inconceivable that beautiful, brilliant Willow Rosenburg would be in love with a demon girl like her.

But even that didn’t matter now because she had lost the redhead in that moment that should have been a triumph. The music should have swelled, the lights dipped, but there was just Tara, the coward, talking to her feet and shutting down. By the time she raised her head, the girl was gone.

“Coward,” she reiterated out loud to the face in the mirror then scowled. And Willow really was gone. Tara hadn’t seen Willow in a week. The redhead had obviously calculated her schedule with her usual unerring accuracy and was now working the equations in reverse to ensure that the two of them never crossed paths again. The idea of a lifetime or even another week without her made Tara’s eyes well up with tears. She couldn’t bear another second of this torture. And the weather seemed to match her state of mind.

A cold snap held Sunnydale in its grip and for the first time in her life Tara felt grateful for her harsh upbringing. She was used to rising in the early morning cold with frost on the inside of the windows and she wasn’t suffering the way her hallmates and fellow students seemed to be. It didn’t help that the dorms didn’t really have heat, just small electric radiators that didn’t do more than warm the two feet around them. She thought suddenly of Willow whose warm-weather upbringing surely made her more susceptible to the cold.

 _I hope she has a warm blanket,_ she thought suddenly. _And a scarf._

For a moment she imagined Willow all wrapped up in a colorful striped scarf, her red hair flaming out of a dark pea coat and smiled. Then the cold reality that Willow wasn’t hers to worry about anymore brought her crashing out of her fantasy.

 _Not like she was ever yours to worry about in the first place…_

Because Willow didn’t really know her so she couldn’t have meant what he had said in this room. If she really knew Tara Maclay there would have been no I-love-yous. There would have been looks of disbelief and disgust, lots of research and finally some sort of cage. She thought of Willow’s descriptions of Oz’s full-moon imprisonment and shuddered. They would have to lock her up to protect her love from her. Or maybe she would become the sort of evil that only a Slayer could handle.

 _Pure evil, Tara._ That’s what her father had told her so many times.

Shaking her head she tried to clear away the memory of that horrible house with its constant fear and loneliness. She wasn’t there anymore. And regardless of how Willow felt about her, the Scoobies were exactly the right people to deal with her problem. Even if it meant killing her and she was perfectly willing to accept that possibility, especially if it meant protecting Willow.

But she didn’t know enough and she wanted to go to Willow with the facts. Her love’s brilliant scientific mind demanded no less. The redhead would argue and debate and she needed to be steadfast. She needed to have all the facts to present the airtight case against herself.

Shivering in the chilly air, she looked at the magic books strewn around the room and took a deep breath. There just wasn’t enough information in them, she would need help and there was only one place to go for it. Because she needed to know, needed to understand what kind of threat or curse she might be to the one person who could open her heart with such ease.

It would take more courage than she had ever mustered before to get the information she needed– even leaving her father seemed small in comparison. Probably because there was so much more at stake here.

With a sigh she faced her reflection. “You are doing this…today.” Her messy morning hair shook a little. “One step at a time, Tara,” she said softly repeating the words of her mother.

With a wistful smile she pulled her robe tightly around herself and walked into the frigid hallway toward the showers.

 _One step at a time._

****

Willow sank down in the overstuffed chair and pulled her arms tightly around herself trying not to shiver, hoping that no one would notice that her eyes were puffy from crying. The two wool sweaters and comfy pink mittens just weren’t enough to keep her warm. She just wanted to go back to her room and crawl under the blankets and sleep, but no, she was stuck here at this early morning Scooby meeting freezing to death.

“Giles, could you turn the air conditioning on? I don’t think it’s cold enough in here,” Xander smiled at the Watcher and rubbed his hands together, blowing on them to illustrate his point.

The Englishman grimaced. “Yes, I agree that it is rather brisk, but I assure you that the useless appliance the landlord refers to as a heater, does nothing but emit a sort of burnt hair odor…”

“Hey guys!” The door flew open revealing the small figure of her best friend. “Did someone order freeze-dried Slayer?” She quipped rubbing her hands together and Willow managed a half-smile before burrowing farther down into her turtleneck.

“Yes, quite to the point Buffy,” Giles changed gears immediately as he turned to the Slayer.

“Really?” Her face scrunched in her confusion. “Cause I thought the point of this hellishly early meeting was just some kind of English breakfast with scones.” She stopped rubbing her hands suddenly and became very serious. “There are scones, right?”

Giles sighed dramatically and with a slight shake of his head gestured to a plate full of donuts and a carafe of coffee. “Of course. Donuts actually.”

With a satisfied smile, Buffy made her way to the counter.

“I’m hurt, G-man. Why didn’t you tell us there was breakfasty goodness?” Xander asked and quickly followed the Slayer to procure his share of the pastries. “It’s discrimination against us non-Slayers I tell ya.”

Giles simply rolled his eyes. “Yes, well, once you’re settled, I’d like to discuss the matter of the uncharacteristically cold weather,” he finished stiffly and sat down.

Willow shifted in her seat, her interest finally piqued. “Why? Do you think it’s magic-related?”

Giles turned his attention to her, pleased to have someone actually listen to him. “Quite possibly although I have no evidence. It may simply be a weather anomaly.”

“Or some chilly cousin of that evil rain demon, El Nino,” Xander said around a mouthful of donut. “Hey Wil, don’t you want a donut? There’s chocolate.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively at the end and she wondered where Anya was. For the first time in her life she actually missed the psychotic ex-demon. At least she would have distracted Xander.

Hugging herself tightly, Willow shook her head as he wiggled his eyebrows again. She had lost her appetite days ago and the thought of a sugary piece of fried dough made her stomach turn over. “No thanks. Not hungry,” she murmured and returned her attention to Giles. “So you think it could be some kind of spell…”

“Oh come on Wil, not even some coffee? Or a Jelly?” Xander interrupted again, holding up a cup of coffee and a donut oozing grape jelly from one end.

“No I don’t want a donut! Okay?” she snapped then stopped, shaking her head when Buffy and Xander both stopped mid-chew to stare at her wide-eyed. “Sorry. I just,” she sighed and closed her eyes for a moment remembering a relaxation technique Tara had taught her.

Tara.

 _Nope, not gonna go there! That way lies puffy eyes and a runny nose._

Her jaw clenched against the tears and she opened her eyes as Buffy and Xander exchanged worried glances. “I’ll have some coffee. Thanks.” She softened her voice and forced a smile for the two of them. “Black.” At least she could use it to warm her hands.

Once Xander and Buffy were settled, munching steadily on their donuts, Willow reached for the steaming cup and tried to restart the conversation. “So there’s magic afoot?”

Giles pushed his glasses up and nodded once. “Possibly,” before turning to his Slayer. “Buffy have you seen anything out of the ordinary during recent patrols?”

The Slayer took a few moments to finish chewing. “Do you mean normal run of the mill demon-y out-of-the-ordinary, or end-of-the-world my Mom’s dating Geraldo Rivera out-of-the-ordinary?”

“Joyce is dating Geraldo Rivera?” Xander chimed in and Willow fought the urge to simply walk out. She could be studying for her Calculus exam or reading her Psych homework in her warm, comfy bed. Anything but sitting around listening to not-so-funny early morning jokes. Which wasn’t really fair. It wasn’t their fault she was miserable and normally, this was exactly the kind of thing she would need to cheer her up, but not now. Nothing could cheer her up anymore. If she weren’t so completely numb, she’d be crying again.

“Clearly I’m referring to any strange demon or magical activity. Any sort of grave-robbing or strange relics or symbols…”

“Oh! There was this demon the other night with a funny stick,” the slayer interjected enthusiastically. “But he got away from me,” she scowled. “Slippery little guy.”

“Buffy, why didn’t you tell me? This could be important.” Giles asked with growing frustration as the blonde took another bite and shrugged. “Was it a wand or a staff?” He asked after a heavy sigh.

“I dunno,” she continued chewing looking thoughtful. “Kind of a wand-y staff,” she gestured with her arms indicating a length of about two and a half feet. “About yay long.” She opened her mouth to take another bite then seemed to remember something. “Oh! It was see-through, like glass,” she remarked obviously pleased with herself.

“Or ice,” Willow mumbled and looked down into the dark brown liquid between her hands. She looked up to find Giles staring at her, obviously lost in thought.

“Yes, quite right,” her murmured before returning his attention to the room. “Well, I think this warrants research.”

“As long as I can do it in the comfort of my nice warm bed,” she grumbled, picking up her coat.

“I don’t think that will be a problem. And Buffy,” the Watcher continued, “Perhaps you and Xander could expand your Patrol and search for this ‘slippery little guy’ for the next few nights?”

“Sure. As long as it’s not between six and nine I’m good to go,” she responded before taking another bite.

“What’s between six and nine,” Xander asked and Buffy froze, her eyes going wide like a deer in the headlights.

“Um, nothing,” she stammered. “Just stuff…you know. School type stuff.”

“Oh, I get it,” Xander nodded, a smug smile spreading across his face. “It’s ‘Riley’s got a break from maneuvers so we’re gonna smooch’ type stuff.” He raised his eyebrows and Buffy frowned.

“Um, yeah.” Buffy grimaced and glanced quickly at Willow before looking away. “Yep, gotta fit some Riley time in between Patrol, my total lack of studying and Initiative ugliness.”

Taking a deep breath, Willow slipped into her jacket trying not to reveal how hurt she was. Buffy had virtually disappeared in the past couple of days when she needed her best friend the most. That one night of mochas when they had stumbled onto Tara’s date was the last actual conversation she had had with the Slayer who was obviously devoting all of her free time to Riley. She shouldn’t have worried about her friends noticing her puffy eyes. They didn’t seem to notice her at all anymore, both of them so wrapped up in their significant others that her pain was pretty much invisible.

Then again, how could she talk to her about this? Buffy would freak. Definitely with the major freak out and that was the last thing she needed since she was already submerged 24/7 in her own world-ending freak-out.

And the more time passed, the less she felt like talking anyway. The less she felt like doing anything at all.

Moving with lead feet toward the door she heard her best friend’s voice behind her. “Hey Wil, if you wait a few minutes I’ll walk back with you.”

“No, that’s okay. I think I’m gonna go ahead.” She shivered for effect and managed a small smile. “Wanna go back to my warm bed.” The Slayer’s forehead furrowed and her smile faded.

“Oh, yeah. Maybe we can get dinner later?” the blonde offered.

“You’ve got the six to nine thing, remember?” she reminded her best friend and adjusted the strap of her bag.

“Willow,” Giles cut in and Willow tried not to breathe an obvious sigh of relief. Talking to Buffy was becoming painful. “Since we’re dealing with cold-related magicks, perhaps you should focus on…”

“Norse mythology,” she interjected. “Ragnarok and such?” she finished for him and he nodded, obviously astonished. During the heat wave, Tara had told her about the Norse gods and cosmology. Long, colorful stories full of ice and snow that kept Willow entertained and cool for hours. But they wouldn’t know that because she had kept that part of herself so secret. A guilty secret. “See you tomorrow?” she tried to keep it upbeat, even rolling onto the balls of her feet, but Giles’ strained smile belied his concern.

“Yes. Tomorrow.” Giles said softly. Willow turned and opened the door to the chilly air outside. Before the door had even closed behind her she heard Xander’s “What’s up the Willster?” but kept walking, telling herself she was just trying to keep warm.

***  
absolute zero  
: a theoretical temperature characterized by complete absence of heat and equivalent to exactly -273.15°C or -459.67°F.

: temperature at which a thermodynamic system has the lowest energy.

Tara walked along the deserted suburban streets enjoying the cool air. She missed fall. It had always been her favorite time of year back home, but southern California weather seemed to skip directly from summer to spring, a weather monotone that rarely changed pitch.

But she couldn’t enjoy it completely. Something or someone was tugging slightly at Tara’s mind. It felt like that strange sensation when a dream slowly reveals itself hours or days after waking, but, she tried not to worry it too much. She had felt this way over the past few days, seeing flashes and bits of dreams that felt more like fantasies – Willow above her, bare skin and heat and open mouths. It was startling, but never overwhelming and she couldn’t quite reach them as if they were happening to her in the moment. Not at all like memory.

Suddenly, in an overwhelming moment of warmth and sensation she could feel every inch of the redhead on top of her, moving over her, between her…. Tara stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk and looked around to reassure herself that no one had seen. Even if it was all in her mind, her skin was flushed and the heat was palpable even in the brisk afternoon air.

So real…

It wasn’t a fantasy or even a dream. It felt… magickal, but then everything about Willow had always felt magickal to Tara. Even the way the redhead drank her coffee seemed miraculous. But it would have to wait. She had more important things to deal with now.

Focus. One step at a time, Tara. Then maybe….the magick.

Swallowing hard, she looked at the apartment buildings around her and adjusted the books in her arms. She walked with determination through an archway and courtyard to the front of a sturdy wooden door and raised a hand to knock. But didn’t. Turning, she began to walk away only to stop and return to the same door after a few steps.

You are not going to be a coward this time. You are going to be strong like an Amazon…for Willow.

Taking a deep breath, the blonde witch smoothed her skirt and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before raising a hand to knock tentatively on the sturdy door.

A few moments passed and she adjusted the heavy books in her arms again, sure that he was out. She only had an hour before her next class and she needed to start this now, needed to know that this was beginning.

“Yes?” The door opened abruptly startling her. “How may I help you?” A very English voice asked her from the open doorway.

“M-M-Mr. Giles?” she stammered, looking down at her feet. They had only met once, briefly. She and Willow had run into him at the Magic Shop. She shouldn’t have expected him to recognize her. “I’m a f-f-friend of W-W…” she couldn’t seem to get the name out, but the Watcher saved her.

“Tara isn’t it? Tara Maclay?” Tara looked up in surprise to see a warm smile on the older man’s face. She nodded and felt a large smile cover her face. Mr. Giles was so different from the men in her family. Here was a demon hunter whose essence felt gentle. There was darkness there, she could sense it, but it was tempered by a sort of weary calm. “I’m sorry,” he stepped to the side and opened the door wide. “I thought you were yet another high school student selling those infernal chocolate bars. Would you care to come in from the cold?”

Still smiling, Tara nodded and stepped over the threshold into his neatly appointed apartment. It was like stepping through a portal out of California and into England, she thought. If she had ever even been to England. Or anywhere. The smell of books and leather permeated the space and Tara felt warmed by it despite the chill.

“Would you care for a cup of tea? I was just about to put the kettle on,” the Watcher asked and Tara froze. She wasn’t used to accepting hospitality or kindness from others, but this wasn’t just for her, hospitality was for the host too, she reminded herself. And it might help the queasiness in her stomach.

“Yes please,” she finally managed. “That w-would be…lovely.” Giles practically beamed at the younger woman and walked quickly to the kitchen where she could hear the sounds of running water and cabinets opening closing.

“So, is there anything I can help you with, Miss Maclay or is this purely a social visit?” he asked as he lit the gas burner on the stove.

She smiled at the gentle prodding. “Um, Tara p-please.” She managed and he smiled nodding briefly. “Yes, actually. I’ve, um, b-been re-s-searching demons, but I’ve r-reached the end of my, um, p-personal l-l-library,” she smiled sheepishly holding up the two careworn, leather-bound books.

Placing the kettle on the stove, Giles walked toward the blonde, pulling a pair of glasses from his pocket as he studied the books intently.

“May I?” he asked and Tara nodded with a blush. Handling the books reverently, Giles thumbed through a few pages nodding his approval.

“These are quite rare,” he flipped through a few more pages before the book fell open to a bookmark she had forgotten to remove. “And in astonishingly good condition.”

“Th-they were my g-grandmother’s,” she offered with a bit of pride, happy that they met with the Watcher’s approval.

“Researching Occum’s Heart?” he asked as he studied the woodcut that had inexplicably captured her interest for the past few weeks.

“N-no,’ she ducked her head in embarrassment. “Just a side p-project.” He was now studying her with a soft smile and several moments passed in awkward silence before Tara struggled to fill it. “I, um, it s-sort of…c-called to me. I g-guess that sounds r-ridiculous,” she shrugged and picked at a loose thread on her skirt.

“Not at all,” he said softly and set the book carefully on the table. “Wars have been fought over the very idea of the Heart. Although the Council determined several years ago that is in actuality a myth,” he explained and sat back in the leather chair. “So you’re researching demons?” She nodded and he settled into a chair nearby. “And you would like my help?” She nodded again, ducking behind her hair at what she knew would be the next question. “Will you be working with Willow?” Which wasn’t at all the question she was expecting.

“N-no. I don’t want Willow involved,” Tara spoke clearly, meeting his gaze with conviction then softened slightly. “It—it could be d-d-dangerous and it’s, um, kind of personal. I’d app-preciate if you wouldn’t t-tell her.”

“I see,” his voice was almost a whisper. The kettle began to whistle and he rose abruptly in a flurry of tweed to tend to the tea. As the Watcher puttered in the kitchen, Tara scanned the titles on the shelves, amused to see a copy of Dante’s Inferno next to a well-worn copy of Harry Potter. Running her hands nervously over her skirt again, she felt the unmistakable soft of wool and reached between the seat cushion and the arm of the chair to remove a pink woolen mitten.

 _Willow._

Bringing it to her face with shaking fingers, she inhaled the unmistakable scent of the redhead and felt the tears well in her eyes.

“I have quite a few herbal teas if you prefer,” she heard Giles speak absently as he rounded the corner with a tea tray. Tara guiltily tucked the mitten in her jacket pocket and rose to help the Watcher clear a space.

“Thank you, Tara. Now,” he settled back into the leather chair opposite with a steaming cup of tea. “You say this is demon-related and personal,” he asked carefully, stirring his tea. “This isn’t related to the cold spell we’re enduring is it?”

Surprised, Tara looked up to meet the Watcher’s gray eyes. “You think the cold is magick-related?” She hadn’t even considered that possibility, so wrapped up in her own issues and Willow that she couldn’t really see anything anymore.

“Possibly,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone before taking a sip of tea.

“Then you sh-shouldn’t be wasting your t-time with my p-problems,” she placed her cup on the coffee table and began to gather her books.

“Nonsense.” His voice was soft but firm. “We’re not even sure there is a connection yet.” He held her eyes and smiled. “Besides, your demon research may prove useful. And if Willow is correct – and I’m sure she is -- your abilities would be a valuable addition in the event that there is a connection.”

Speechless, Tara held his kind eyes for a moment before picking up her teacup with a shaking hand. Willow had talked about her to Mr. Giles. She was sure the fiery blush on her face was obvious to the Englishman, but he betrayed no hint that he had even noticed her discomfort.

“I’d be h-happy to help you r-research the cold,” she said shakily. Giles offered his genuine thanks and sat back in his chair as if he was waiting for her.

Taking another scalding sip of the mint tea she had selected, Tara inhaled deeply and willed herself to reveal the terrible secret she had been carrying as long as she could remember.

 _For Willow._

“I’m demon.” The words were out of her in a sudden rush and she set the fragile teacup down waiting for the disgusted and angry remarks or possibly even violence. When she finally found the courage to look up at the older man, he was studying her with an expression somewhere between confusion and interest. “It r-runs in my family…only in the w-w-women. But th-they never s-said which kind…of d-demon I mean.”

The Watcher’s forehead was now furrowed in concentration as he studied the contents of his cup and finally looked up at her. “Your mother as well?”

She nodded and looked down at her hands. “I n-never saw her transf-formation,” she winced remembering the horror of hearing her mother’s desperate pleading when her father and uncle locked her in the ‘demon room’.

“I see,” he said in a near-whisper. “I know how difficult this must be for you, Tara, but I do need to ask a few more questions.”

“O-Of course,” she replied without looking up.

“Was her transformation linked to any temporal or lunar events?” He asked gently.

“You mean, like a w-werewolf?” she asked and he nodded his assent. “No. It was r-random as far as I could tell. Every f-few months or so. Until t-two years before she died…then it s-stopped completely.”

“I’m very sorry.” The Englishman cleared his throat softly and she heard the chink of the teacup being set on the wooden table top. “And your own…transformations?” His tone was so gentle, tears clouded her vision. Here she was telling him that she was a demon, a potential threat and he was taking such care with her.

“I don’t…I mean, I haven’t t-turned yet. Not until my twentieth birthday.” There were several moments of silence. Giles looked lost in thought as his eyes scanned the bookshelf to Tara’s right. She finally picked up the teacup again and took a sip to calm herself.

“Did they ever describe her transformations to you or give you any physical description of the demon she would become,” he asked finally and she shook her head. His eyebrows drew together in deep concentration and she heard an almost inaudible “Hm, very interesting,” before he stood up and withdrew a linen from his pocket to begin cleaning his glasses. Tara smiled at a memory of Willow’s exaggerated pantomime of this same gesture.

After a few moments of deep thought, he walked to one of the overloaded bookshelves and withdrew a couple of volumes. “Well, from what you’ve told me, it’s unlike anything I’ve encountered to date. No lunar connection, no periodicity and onset triggered by a rather arbitrary date….” He trailed off, finally turning to her with a serious expression. “It could be some form of possession…a family curse of some sort that is repeated with each generation.”

“Possession?” She hadn’t considered that option. Her father’s very limited descriptions had always been so physical – ugly, deformed, evil.

“Yes, and that would be treatable. We could perform a banishment spell.” He returned his attention to the page in front of him and Tara sat speechless. She had never imagined it could be that easy. That it could be treatable. Of course, banishment spells were hardly simple, but the idea that there was hope was absolutely astonishing. “Or there’s always the possibility of some sort of demon blood in your family. A kind of latent demonic tendency, but those are typically brought on by specific physical events…puberty, a first sexual experience, some sort of sacrifice or ritual cutting,” as he rambled on excitedly she couldn’t help draw a parallel with Willowbabble. Grabbing several more volumes, he brought a large stack and set it on the table in front of Tara with great enthusiasm.

“These volumes make an excellent start and I have a few more in storage that may be of some help,” he muttered absently, cleaning his glasses again. Tara stared wide-eyed at the wealth of information before her, then winced at the sheer volume of it. She had a ten-page Sociology paper due next week and hadn’t even begun to study for Art History. But this was more than she had dared hope for.

“Th-thank you,” she finally managed. “But I couldn’t p-possibly…they’re so v-valuable.”

“Not to worry,” he smiled replacing his glasses. “You obviously have a great reverence for books as those two wonderful volumes can attest,” he motioned to her grandmother’s books.

“Would you l-like to b-borrow them?” she asked and watched a shy, child-like smile creep across his face.

“Would you mind?” He asked hopefully and she almost laughed out loud at his enthusiasm.

Shaking her head wildly, she smiled. “I’d be honored. Besides, I don’t’ think I could c-c-carry them all back to the d-dorm.”

His eyes went wide immediately and he bent to pick up the enormous stack of books. “You couldn’t possibly carry all of these back to campus. I’ll drive you.”

Completely flustered by yet another unfamiliar display of kindness and generosity, Tara blushed deep red. “No, no…it’s o-o-okay, really. I n-need the exercise.”

“I insist,” he ignored her and picked up a set of keys. “I can tell you about the demon we’re researching on the way in case you run across it in your studies.” Tara stood speechless by her chair still unsure. No one was ever kind to her. No one but Willow. And this man knew about the demon and the evil that lurked within her, but he still stood waiting to go out of his way to help her.

She couldn’t stop the tear that rolled down her cheek, surprising her. Wiping hurriedly at her face, she bent to retrieve her bag hoping that he hadn’t seen her emotional display.

“Tara I know this must be terrible for you. I admit I can’t even imagine…” he trailed off and she looked up to find a crisp handkerchief extended toward her. Swallowing another sob, she took the offered linen and whispered a quiet thank you. “It took incredible courage to come here today,” he said softly. “I can see why Willow speaks so highly of you.”

Willow.

That brought all of the terror and sadness out of her, the tears streamed down her face as she thought about the brilliant redhead. This wasn’t about her at all. This was about Willow and he had to understand that.

“P-please, I want,” she sobbed then paused to collect herself. “Don’t let me h-hurt her. If it c-comes to that…if I’m…” the gentle pressure of his hand on her arm stopped her.

“I’m sure it won’t come to that,” he offered with a sad smile.

“But if it d-does I n-need you to p-promise me if it’s s-something e-evil you’ll help me k-kill it.” His smile faded abruptly.

“You do understand what you’re saying,” he asked carefully.

She held his eyes in an unwavering stare and nodded. “I w-won’t hurt anyone. I w-won’t allow that to happen.” She had to make him understand this – the real reason for her visit. Someone had to know so they could protect the world from her demon self. The Watcher held her gaze for a few moments before his features softened.

“We’ll find an answer, Tara,” he stated simply. “It’s what we do.”


	2. Chapter 2

Willow pulled the comforter over her head in attempt to speed up the warming process. She had crawled into bed fully-clothed trying to escape the cold. And it wasn’t really that cold, she reminded herself. It was only in the mid-forties. No one was going to freeze to death in Sunnydale. Still, it was definitely not warm and Willow Rosenburg was not the frolic-in-the-snow type.

Nope, much more of a curl under the covers kinda girl, she mused. It was so much nicer under the covers with the light filtering in all blue and orange with a little bit of pink from the sheets. Yep, much better under the covers. Still, frolicking in the snow might not be so bad if she could come back to bed and warm up with someone nice and snuggly. Plus, there were snow angels. Tara said she liked to make snow angels when she was little and Willow imagined ghostly, ethereal sculptures carved from snowflakes and ice with flowing hair and sky blue eyes. And curves.

Tara. Snuggly. Damn! How did I end up back here?

She sighed and pulled the covers back from her face. It seemed she spent most of her time trying not to think about the blonde witch. On the second day after The Day that Must Not Be Mentioned she had remembered a few meditation techniques in an attempt to quell the overwhelming, body-wracking spasms of grief and anxiety that seemed to hit her at the worst times – like the Scooby meeting. She winced at the memory of snapping at Xander then returned to the meditation technique. The idea was to empty your mind…but not forcefully. If thoughts intruded you were supposed to acknowledge them and gently sort of push them aside. She tried. Really hard. But thoughts of Tara were like some self-replicating virus that could take down her processor in a matter of minutes – filling up everything with Taraness.

So that hadn’t worked. And neither had the whole reverse-bumping-into thing. All of that calculating to avoid Tara and she found herself desperately hoping the blonde would defy her analysis and turn up unexpected. It was the only time in Willow’s life that she could remember actually hoping to be proven wrong. So far, her calculations were terrifyingly and disappointingly accurate.

The only thing that seemed to work was bed and sleep. And she was having the best dreams. And not just the Tara spicy dreams…although those were definitely of the good. And bad, because, hello, no chance of making them a reality. But it was the less spicy ones that woke her up with a bittersweet smile: vivid dreams of hand-holding under the table at Scooby meetings; Tara’s fingers threading hypnotically through her hair as Willow’s head rested comfortably in her lap; stealing smooches in the Magic Box of all places.

It was as if in sleep she had the relationship with Tara she hadn’t even dared imagine – full of love and passion and trust. Something perfect and all hers. And Tara’s.

And she really wanted to go back there, but there was the cold research Giles expected. She scowled at the stack of magick books and pulled the comforter up to her chin. Maybe there wasn’t any connection anyway and she would waste hours of possible sleep time researching. They didn’t know if this was an evil ice cream demon intent on bringing the Rocky Road Apocalypse or just some sort of weird weather coincidence.

But there was a way to find out she realized with a smile. Pulling her laptop from her bag without moving from her warm spot, she began to search through the weather reports for Sunnydale and the surrounding areas. It looked at first as if it was just some slow cold front, but her scientific mind immediately saw the improbability of the too-regular drops in temperature. Not to mention that fifty miles out of Sunnydale in any direction the temperature rose to its normal seventy degrees. So, yes, definitely some sort of Hellmouth-y weather weirdness.

Great. She made another face at the leather-bound books and looked at the clock. Her first class wasn’t until one o’clock so she could, theoretically, take a nap and still have time for research.

And I’ll be all rested and ready after a nap. Yep, it’s napping in the name of research. Always for a good cause.

Closing the laptop with a snap, Willow snuggled down into the blankets and let herself drift off with the blue-eyed snow angels.

 

***

That wild thing inside her was growing restless. An hour of wandering around cemeteries and she had only staked one vamp. There had been no sign of the slippery demon with the shiny stick thing. Of course, this could have something to do with the fact that Anya had insisted on going along and the blonde hadn’t stopped talking for more than three seconds.

“Look, no offense, but have you guys ever heard of stealth?”

Xander looked sheepishly at Anya whose mouth still hung open from her endless monologue. He looked back to Buffy, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Sorry Buff.”

“You’re sorry!” Anya huffed. “This Slayer,” she said contemptuously, “Just rudely interrupted my story and you’re apologizing? To her?” With her hands on her hips the ex-vengeance demon stared down her now cowering boyfriend. “She should apologize.” She pointed at the Slayer without averting her icy stare.

“An, we’re supposed to be patrolling…” Xander began to whine and Buffy rolled her eyes in frustration. She had had about as much as she could stomach of this entire scenario. First she had given up her ‘Riley Time’, as Xander insisted on calling it , to accommodate their schedule and now they were wasting even more valuable minutes having a very loud argument. It was getting harder and harder to rein in the Slayer inside that wanted a very physical confrontation at this point.

“Guys! Hello! Not helping in the whole stealth department…” she began gesticulating wildly only to be interrupted by an unfamiliar voice.

“Looky, looky. What do we have here? A couple of tasty blondes and, well, Craig you can have the dweeb. He’s more your type.”

“Hey! He’s not a dweeb…” Anya retorted automatically and Buffy felt her spidey senses kick into high gear as the girl’s eyes suddenly went wide. “Oh. See!” She motioned to the newly arrived vampires and graced Buffy with a smug smile. “ Stealth with vampires,” she lectured, “Not really a priority since we’re their….” At that moment the vampires – three of them she noted internally – decided to lunge and the last word was distorted into a surprised high-pitched scream as Anya was knocked to the side by Xander. “Prey!”

Even before her stake sank into the chest of the first vampire, Buffy felt a sort of glorious relief. She needed this badly and not just for the Slayer thing. This was uncomplicated and easy – despite the risk to life and limb thing. When everything else in her felt so hopelessly out of control and confusing she could count on slaying to reduce everything to the basics. This, after all, was what she was meant to do.

Focusing on the fight she extended her senses a bit to make sure that Xander and Anya were out of harm’s way before returning her attention to the two remaining vamps smiling evilly at her, the faint moonlight reflecting off barred fangs.

“Oooh, looks like we’ve got ourselves a spicy one Todd. What do you think she tastes like?”

“Like chicken?” she answered then grimaced. She was definitely not on her game tonight. The main vamp was looking at her with a quizzical expression and his minion just stared ahead blankly. “You know, ‘cause everything tastes like chicken?” It came out as more of a question than a statement and Buffy cringed remembering that Xander and Anya were here to witness her very un-Buffy-like like gaffe. She would never hear the end of this. It would be Kentucky Fried Buffy jokes for the next three weeks at least.

With a sigh she lunged at the dim-witted minion using a precisely timed set of moves she had been working on for the past few weeks. It was probably a little too complicated for a real fight, but these two didn’t look like too much of a challenge. Besides, she had to punish them for making her look bad.

A reverse handspring and she hit him with two feet squarely in the center of his chest, knocking him to the ground and sending her into a perfectly executed forward roll. A quick sweep to knock the leader off his feet and she tucked into a quick back flip to straddle the minion and stake him in one easy motion.

The sound of Xander whooping and clapping actually made her smile as she leapt to her feet to confront the other vampire. She hadn’t really gotten a good look at him before, but now he stood in the faint light of a street lamp and she felt like she had had the wind knocked out of her. Dark hair, square shoulders, dark trench coat, and that brooding stare as he assessed her.

“Angel?” Her voice was almost a whisper. She had managed to almost completely banish her first love from her thoughts for the past two months and now it all came crashing back into her in a breathtaking tidal wave of pain and anger. And betrayal.

She stood flat-footed, overwhelmed by the rush of emotions, as a roundhouse caught her off guard and sent her to the ground hard.

“So, not so spicy. More tart.” He said above her with a sneer and kicked her in the ribs before she could rise. Looking up she could see cruel blue eyes and the differences that should have been obvious before -- this wasn’t Angel.

Somewhere to her right she could hear the sounds of a heated argument between Anya and Xander. Could hear Anya insisting that the Scooby stay out of the fight. For the first time in over a month, she hoped that the ex-vengeance demon got her way. All she needed was Xander running in to rescue her and inevitably just endangering himself.

Another kick to her face and she tasted blood. That was enough to send the Slayer into a frenzy. Without thinking she kicked into a backward roll and regained her feet, but lost her stake. In a blur of rage she took the Angel clone down with a crippling blow to the side of his knee and followed up with a series of kicks and punches that left him bleeding and prone. But the Slayer wasn’t finished yet, with the taste of blood still coppery and warm in her mouth she showered him with punches, screaming in rage and pent-up frustration as her fists landed again and again with satisfying precision. The sound of Xander’s voice brought her back to the world of the real and she was surprised to hear her own voice raging about L.A. and true love and broken promises as she brutalized the already unconscious vampire.

Finally slowing her punches she sat still trying to regulate her breathing.

What’s happening to me?

Because this was becoming a little too familiar, this loss of control. It was terrifying. She felt a hard tremor begin in her hands and brought them up to study the shaking with a sort of detached interest. A wooden stake appeared between her and the vampire and she stared at it for a moment uncomprehending.

“I think he’s already a check in the win column, Buff. Do you want me to finish him for you?” It was Xander’s voice, gentle and worried. She felt the warm pressure of his hand on her shoulder and shook her head. Carefully pulling the stake from his hand she took one last look at the soulless undead thing that wasn’t Angel and drove the stake through his chest.

Before the vampire could disintegrate into dust she was on her feet backing away from Xander, apologizing as she hastily wiped the tears from her face.

“Sorry, I don’t know…”

“Hey, it’s me,” he said with sad eyes and a warm smile. “It’s okay.” But there was more than concern there. She could see something like fear behind it all.

He’s afraid of me. And he should be.

“I’ll see you…” she began taking steps backward away from him. “I mean, you know…Scooby meeting. Tomorrow.”

His forehead furrowed with concern as he extended a hand to her. “Buffy, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yep! Fine!” But her voice was too shrill. Too perky. “I’ve just…I’ve gotta go.”

He nodded, his face still full of worry and she noticed Anya several yards behind him standing quietly with her arms crossed.

Okay, I managed to shut Anya up so that must have been quite a freak-out.

With a small wave she turned and forced herself not to run until she was safely out of sight. Then it was all instinct. She didn’t even have to think, her feet taking her automatically to the familiar building. But it was after ‘lockdown’ so she would have to sneak in. Slipping silently through the empty corridors, she passed the ‘Visiting Hours 6-9pm’ sign and turned right. A familiar set of broad shoulders in the familiar green cotton shirt was visible in the room and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hi Paul,” she whispered making the big man jump.

He brought a giant hand up to his chest and shook his head with a relieved smile. “Buffy you scared me to death,” he said softly as she shut the door behind her.

“Sorry,” she said and hoped that her puffy eyes weren’t visible in the dim light of the room. “How’s she doing?” she looked to the placid features of her fellow Slayer lying under a hospital sheet.

“Better now that you’re here,” he said with a smile. “It was all frowns earlier. Until you showed up,” he said softly as he replaced an IV bottle. “Of course, you realize that it is after visiting hours and I couldn’t possibly,” he arched an eyebrow and trailed off.

“I know, I know,” she said with a smile. “I am officially breaking and entering without your consent.”

Another giant smile lit up his face and he nodded. “I’m just glad you’re here for her.” He shook his head and looked at the Dark Slayer. “Young girl like that…it’s not right.” His face hardened and he looked back to Faith. “Whoever did this…” he left his sentence unfinished and Buffy felt the muscles in her jaw tighten in guilt and anger and shame. Because she had done this. But she had managed to forget that and everything else until tonight.

Patting her shoulder he walked past her and whispered a silent, “Good night,” leaving her alone in the room with her arch-enemy and the past that never seemed to let go.

“Hey Faith,” she whispered and sat down in her usual place beside the bed, marveling again at the fact that she was here at all. If it hadn’t been for that dream she would have certainly left Faith here to rot in this hospital. But the dream was so vivid…and undeniable. It had led her here to another secret she was forced to keep from her friends. Because they wouldn’t understand. She wasn’t sure she did.

Picking at something on the white sheet she began nervously, “So, you’ll never believe what happened tonight. There was this vamp that looked just like…”

***

She and Tara were in bed. Naked. It was exquisite and warm and it wasn’t even naughty. Yet. The two of them lay face to face just staring at into each other’s eyes. Smiling. She could feel Tara’s hand on her hip, felt a bare leg rub lightly over her calf. It seemed to go on forever this dream stretching backwards and forward. So warm.

Then suddenly in a violent jerk the scene changed. She was on the floor now, on her knees. Something sticky and warm and she knew already what it was because Tara lay beneath her on the floor, limp and empty. Tears streamed down her hot face and the screaming seemed to come from everywhere at once. And the grief and agony – there was no end to it. It was all over and through her, consuming her burning her self away into something dark and furious.

“TARA!” She woke with a start screaming the girl’s name, covered in sweat. It took her a few moments to understand where she was: in her dorm room. Her empty dorm room. At least Buffy wasn’t there as usual to hear her scream the blonde witch’s name in her sleep. She wiped her eyes clumsily and tried to shake away the terror of the nightmare, but it wouldn’t leave. The horror of losing Tara was like nothing she had ever felt. Finally she let it overtake her and sat sobbing in the bed staring at the photo strip of she and Tara through teary eyes.

After a few minutes her breathing finally began to even out and the crying subsided, but she still felt empty. And cold. Yep, definitely cold. The windows were all fogged and several, she noticed, were cracked. Which was strange. Maybe the cold? Glancing at the clock she noticed that the plastic casing was shattered and the digital display blinked 12:00 at her over and over again. Looking to her trusty black wristwatch she gasped in shock.

“No.” Her trusty watch, the one that had survived apocalypses and demon attacks, was smashed, it’s display now a dull metallic gray. She knew it was ridiculous to mourn a watch, but she loved that ugly thing. It kept perfect time and now she would have to go buy a new one.

Okay, so I’m not used to the cold, but aren’t these things meant to stand up to temperatures above zero?

Shaking her head she finally checked Buffy’s analog clock and discovered that she was almost late for the Scooby meeting.

“Oh heck!” she yelped and jumped shivering from the bed to throw on the nearest clothes, gathering magic books as she went.

As she walked briskly to Giles’, images from the nightmare continued to assault her bringing tears to her eyes. The emptiness of it, the loss…she stopped dead in the middle of the street, wrinkling her nose in concentration.

This stops today. I can’t…with the avoiding. I just can’t anymore. Besides, maybe if I’m really good she’ll want to be friends again.

She smiled a genuine smile for the first time in days thinking of her friendship with the shy blonde. It wasn’t everything. It wasn’t lazy, hazy naked time in bed, but it was so much more than she had ever had in her life.

So…friendly. I’ll apologize and plead insanity or something and hey! I’ll bring flowers. No. no flowers. Too girlfriend-y…  
Oh! Bagels! Everyone loves bagels right? But wait, are bagels suggestive? With the hole and everything…?

“Hey Will,” Buffy’s voice snapped her out of her internal rambling and Willow realized she had somehow managed to walk all the way to Giles’ door without noticing. “Smiling Will?” Her best friend said with a confused smile of her own.

“Smiling Will is good,” Xander’s voice boomed behind Buffy. Willow stepped through the doorway into the slightly warmer apartment. “Whatcha smiling about?” he asked raising his eyebrows again suggestively and Willow sighed dramatically.

“Sex,” Anya offered from the couch next to him. “That’s definitely a sex smile,” the ex-demon continued.

“It is not a sex smile! Just because a person is smiling does not mean sex was in any way…in the way.” Willow retorted blushing and waiting for the rest of the explicit monologue, but there was none. In fact, Anya simply crossed her arms and looked away. So something was definitely up with Anya. Great. Maybe she and Xander had a fight. That’s just what she needed. Hopefully Xander would pull her aside later to ask for advice. Too bad there wasn’t a self-help booking on making up with your ex-vengeance demon girlfriend she could hand him.

“Ah Willow!” Giles’ voice cut through the mounting tension and Willow smiled gratefully. “You rang about some sort of discovery?”

“No fair Giles,” Xander began with a little too much enthusiasm and she eyed his shifting stance. He kept glancing at Buffy then away. “Now we don’t get to hear Willow naughty thoughts.”

“Precisely.” Willow began removing books from her bag as the Watcher sat down with a cup of tea.

“Okay, so I was researching anything to do with Ragnarok even though my Old Norse is pretty much non-existent…” she began, leafing through pages to find the entries she needed.

“Wait? Anorak?” Buffy asked and she heard Anya sigh dramatically.

“Ragnarok!” the ex-vengeance demon interjected angrily. “Don’t you people read? Doom of the gods, end of the world, blah, blah, blah.” She huffed before hugging herself tighter and looking away. Okay, maybe Buffy and Anya had a fight. Were they dating now? Blinking in confusion she decided to return to the research and avoid the volatile emotional undercurrents in the room.

“Um, exactly.” She said and Anya actually smiled at her a little. “Only before the big nasty battle of the gods and the giants there’s the Fimbulvetr, the winter of winters, which is just a fancy way of saying three years of serious frickin’ cold.” She paused to search for a bookmark and opened the giant book to a Norse print of the final battle. Lots of impaling, axing, and the usual gore. Buffy shrugged unimpressed and Anya’s smile widened a bit.

“So you think this nasty weather is really the Big Chill or whatever?” her best friend asked and she nodded.

“It’s quite possible,” Giles interjected. “Although the legend is common, I’ve not been able to find any reference to when, where, or how the Fimbulvetr begins.”

“Actually,” Willow thumbed to a cracked piece of parchment and handed the book to the watcher. “I found this prophecy that seems to refer to some ancient sect of Priests of Fenrir who say it starts on the Hellmouth.” She pointed to a badly damaged passage. “See there, ‘and the Fimulvetr will rise from the land of heat and the mouth of hell’” His finger ran over the passage and she could hear him reading the Old Norse aloud trying to translate on the fly. “And then, as far as I can tell something about a ‘broken spell’ or something.” She tilted her head to look at it again. “Or maybe a Spell of Breaking?”

“Hmmm, I think ‘broken spell’ may be the more accurate translation,” Giles began absently. “but my Old Norse is rather rusty….”

“Okay, so who’s Fenrir and do his priests carry icy wandy sticks?”

Willow looked up from the tome to meet her friend’s hazel eyes. She could hear Giles clearing her throat so she asked quickly, “Unabridged or Cliff’s Notes?”

“Cliff’s. I’d like to get out of here sometime tonight,” Buffy smiled. Willow actually smiled in return suddenly sad that she didn’t have time to talk to her best friend about everything. Tara and the dreams.

“Okay, Um, Fenrir is evil wolf god guy who kills Odin, king of the gods, in the final battle. And I don’t know about the sticks.”

“Ice wands,” Any interjected angrily with a scowl. “They carry ice wands. And don’t ever try to talk to them about Fenrir unless you’ve got, like, a week to kill.” She shook her head with disgust and returned to her brooding.

“Are they dangerous? The ice sticks?” Buffy asked testily, pointedly emphasizing the ‘sticks’.

“How should I know? I told you, I try to avoid those guys. Deadly boring. All they want to talk about is how great Fenrir is. Fenrir this and Fenrir that. Who cares!” she threw up her hands and stared intently at Buffy. There were a few moments of tense silence and Willow wondered again what was going on between the three of them.

“This is good right!” Xander yelped nervously and Giles looked up with a quizzical expression. “I mean, we know what this is, who the bad guys are. So…stop the guys with the icees and it’s over. Easy as pie right?”

“Well, if Anya is correct the connections appear to be more than coincidental. So, yes. Possibly. Well done Willow,” he smiled, pulling his glasses off.

“You’re welcome!” Anya huffed rising from her chair. “And I am correct.” Without another word she walked to the apartment door and left. Xander apologized over and over, glancing nervously at Buffy before following her.

As the door slammed behind him, Buffy rolled her eyes and released a long sigh. Willow thought there might be an explanation from her best friend or at least a snide remark about Anya’s mood, but…nothing. Shivering, she sank down onto the couch suddenly noticing the cold. So she had accomplished something today with the prophecy, which meant maybe she could get away with a research-free night tonight so she could plan how best to approach Tara.

Maybe after copying over my ChemLab notes. Oh my God! ChemLab!!

“What time is it?” she practically yelled at the room.

Giles glanced at a clock behind her. “Quarter to ten, why…?”

But she was already grabbing her books and bag and running for the door.

 

***  
Sometimes she thought she could feel it crawling around inside her – the demon. Moving under her skin, sliding into her mind to darken her thoughts. But today it was different…that lightening. She found that she could push it aside, drive it back with relative ease. Just a bit of controlled breathing and a few thoughts of Willow or Mr. Giles’ kind words full of hope and the world seemed to open up around her. It all seemed to be tied in to that lightening she had noticed. As if the world wasn’t tied to one dark path – as if it had broken free of its original course and was free to follow any path.

Of course, there was still the rest of it to deal with. With a heavy sigh she looked to the stack of tomes Mr. Giles had thoughtfully carried up for her that were now scattered around the room and open on the bed. Hours and hours of work and she had promised to help research the cold as well. Which made her smile. Mr. Giles actually wanted her help. He trusted her with his books and the cold problem. Someone who battled daily against the forces of evil had asked for her assistance. Her smile broadened and she pulled the nearest book to her. There was no Table of Contents, but she was used to that. These were, after all, ancient books. Flipping through the pages she saw the familiar typeset of a sixteenth century press and skimmed over the attributes of a particularly fierce-looking demon: ‘vicious and driven by an insatiable lust for blood….’ She shivered and closed the book with a wince deciding that she wasn’t ready yet…to face what she might become.

Breathing deeply she began to center herself in a meditation. It was even colder this morning and she could almost see her breath in the crisp air. Tomorrow, maybe, she would allow herself the heater. If it got colder. But now, the meditation. Thoughts of Willow flickered in her mind as always and she let herself linger on the redhead’s smile for a few moments before calmly centering herself once again. If she was going to help them she was going to have to regain her focus.

It took a few more minutes, but she finally found that floating place and opened up her senses. What she felt surprised her. It wasn’t the usual warmth and play of energies she was used to. Instead there was a bone-chilling cold and the unmistakable sensation of something pulling on her – draining energy from everything around her. She contemplated following it to its source to get some idea of the power they were dealing with, but stopped herself. That could be dangerous. Or deadly.

With a gasp she brought herself back to her dorm room. She didn’t have an anchor and as experienced as she was with magic, she had spent very little time in the nether realms. She would need a partner to go farther and Willow was as far from her now as she had been before that Wicca meeting. As she recalled the injured look on the redhead’s face, the distance between them seemed almost insurmountable, but…one step at a time.

Rifling through her bag for a few moments she found the spiral notebook and opened it to a list color-coded in different colored pens. She had never been one for list-making, but the fact that this entire mission was devoted to Willow made her rethink her processes. Tara was trying to connect everything in her world in every way possible to the beautiful redhead who lit her heart. Like a spell, she wove her love into the fabric of her life.

With Willow-like neatness she crossed out the first item on the list: 1. Speak to Mr. Giles about demonology.

And proceeded to the second item written in purple ink: 2. Ambush Willow after ChemLab. And ‘ambush’ was probably the wrong word – a little too violent for her tastes -- but she thought it sounded Scooby-like so she had used it anyway.

Because that was the only way at this point. Even if it meant skipping class. She smiled at the thought of the redhead’s horrified expression at the mention of missing anything school-related. But this had to be done. One way or another they would have to work together again soon and that would be impossible unless she began to repair at least some of the damage done.

Besides, she missed Willow so much she found she couldn’t breathe. She desperately needed to be near the girl, even if she hated her now. Maybe she could salvage something of their friendship that had meant everything to her for the past few months.

Willow was the air she breathed and now she was gone, Tara felt sometimes as if she were suffocating. With a shake of her head she cleared her mind of the negative thoughts and focused instead on the words she wanted to say to Willow.

“I love you.” It came out as a whisper and she blushed bright red at the very thought of saying it to her love. If she had only…that night when Willow had said those words…but that would have been selfish. She would never allow the redhead to put herself in danger and that was exactly what falling in love with her evil self was – dangerous.

She glanced at the open books around her and sighed. So far she had found nothing. Hours of research the night before had revealed nothing but a few accounts of demonic possession that bore no resemblance to the family tales she had managed to overhear. None of the demons she had so far researched fit the precise profile of her own inevitable transformation, but the research had made her dreams take a strange dark turn. There were still the vivid images of a life and passion with Willow, but there were other moments as well -- a black-eyed, cruel version of the redhead full of power that made Tara’s skin crawl with fear. Like the demon within her had somehow escaped to take Willow instead.

Shuddering at the memory, she took a series of deep breaths to drive the nightmare away.

It’s just a dream. Just a dream…

It had to be because she would do anything to save the beautiful redhead from that dark-eyed demon that lived inside her. Anything.

Eyeing the clock she dressed hurriedly and gathered a few books. Only fifteen minutes until ambush time. Her stomach flipped at the thought of what she was about to do and she ran a hand roughly through her still tangled hair finally decided to pull it back rather than take the time to make it perfect for the redhead. Or almost perfect.

Sighing dramatically at her less than breathtaking image in the mirror, Tara picked up her patchwork bag and quickly exited the room. There was no need to rush really, she had plenty of time. But she would need a few minutes before the ambush to steady herself for that thunderbolt moment when she actually laid eyes on Willow again. Because it always was – a thunderbolt. And she had to be prepared or she would be left standing there stuttering and bewildered as the redhead ran away in terror, anger or fear.

After only five minutes of brisk walking she stood outside the hideous building that housed the Chemistry department. A ‘modern’ behemoth built sometime in the seventies she thought absently trying to distract herself, with tiny slits for windows that were never open to let in fresh air. ‘Monstrous’ was probably a better word. If the word ‘chemistry’ hadn’t been enough to keep her out of the science department this building certainly would.

A steady stream of students began to pass Tara signaling the end of classes and she smoothed her skirt unconsciously. Suddenly a flash of red amid the blondes and browns and there was Willow flickering through the crowd like a spark. Tara’s heart raced immediately and she inhaled deeply forcing herself to just watch for a moment. The red head was lowered and her lips moved slightly as she walked as if she was working something out. Carrying on a heated internal argument or discussion. She was only a few feet away now and Tara felt her stomach turn over. Taking a deep breath and a halting step forward she said it for the first time in days. The magic word.

“Willow?”

Green eyes flashed up at her and the redhead actually jumped, a beaming smile overtook her face but only for a moment.

“Tara.” A painful whisper that took the smile away and Willow stepped back away from her, green eyes moving to the ground. “Don’t… aren’t you in Medieval History now? I mean, obviously you’re not because, hello, standing right here, but don’t you? Have that?” Then a look like panic flashed across the redhead’s face and she looked up with concern. “Not that I memorized your schedule or think you should be all Medieval because I would never…think that about you or memorize anything. Except dates.” Green eyes opened wide. “I mean, ya know, date dates of the historical kind… all with the calendar numbering and not the hand-holding smoochiness…”

Tara’s brain apparently overloaded at this point because she couldn’t seem to process everything at once. Here was Willow finally. Willow – beautiful and fiercely shining and bouncing frenetically in the blonde’s vision. And babbling. At full force. And Tara knew from experience that this sort of babble was not a good thing. It was panicked. Traumatic. It was the verbal equivalent of all those self-defense maneuvers she had struggled to learn her first year in Sunnydale. Then she heard Willow stumbling around the word ‘date’ and knew that she had to act quickly or they would both be dragged down into the dark chasm of that night.

“Willow.” She placed her arm on the pale blue jacket and the torrent of words stopped immediately. She felt as much as heard the sigh of relief. “I s-skipped class.” There were a few moments of silence as the redhead stared at the hand on her arm and Tara self-consciously removed it. Furrowing deeply, Willow turned to her, green eyes blinking in disbelief.

“You skipped a class?” Still blinking she stared at Tara dumbfounded. If it had been a different day, a different week, the blonde would have laughed with sheer joy at the beautiful openness and expressiveness of Willow Rosenburg’s face. But it wasn’t.

“I w-wanted to t-talk to you and I’ve alr-ready arranged to g-get the notes from s-s-some…a friend.” her traitorous mouth seemed to determined to make an already awkward situation absolutely impossible. She half-expected the redhead’s face to be twisted in derision, but Willow’s expression remained unchanged.

“I don’t understand…are you okay? Are you sick? You know, because this weather…you really shouldn’t be walking around with all that skin exposed…” Tara finally did laugh at Willow’s inability to grasp the concept of skipping even one class – for anything. “What?” The redhead trailed off, a small smile working at the corners of her mouth.

“Willow, I skipped class b-because you’re avoiding me and I wanted to see you. To talk to you. And I thought this was the only w-way.” The laughter must have helped because she managed to get the entire sentence out without much of a stutter. But Willow’s eyes were wide with shock again.

“I’m not…” the redhead hugged her books to her chest. There were a few moments of silence and Tara was sure that all was lost, until suddenly Willowvoice rising in pitch and volume. “Avoiding you. And…and how do I, that is, you… know you’re not avoiding me?” Another pause. “Aha!” She raised a slender finger between them and a giddy, guilty smile spread across her pixie features. “That’s probably it! I’m the one being avoided because here you are with the anti-avoidance and…”

“God I m-missed you.” Tara said still laughing with delight and Willowbabble stopped abruptly, the blonde’s admission hanging in the air between them. For a moment she feared the redhead would sneer at her confession or simply ignore it, but her eyes sparkled and her smile was breathtaking.

“Oh.” The hacker’s head tilted to the left slightly, her brow crinkling slightly in confusion. “Really?”

Rolling her eyes at the understatement Tara ducked her head to avoiding burning the redhead to cinders with the sheer overwhelming love that swept through her. “Really.”

“Oh.” She didn’t dare look up now. All she could think of was the millions of ways she missed Willow. She missed her in a bone-deep, desperate way that threatened to strangle her. Even when the redhead got up to refill her coffee at the Espresso Pump it was almost unbearable. “Because I thought…”

But neither had the opportunity to voice their thoughts as a familiar cocky voice cut into their conversation. “Hey Tar.” A slender arm wrapped around her waist. “You didn’t have to come all the way over here to pick me up, darlin’.” A soft, wet kiss on her cheek and she closed her eyes against the fury that threatened to overwhelm her. Aly.

If I were Willow I would have planned for this possibility. Probably in green ink.

But she wasn’t and here she was with Aly’s arm wrapped territorially around her waist and Willow staring at them both in shock, her mouth still slightly open around the sentence she hadn’t finished.

“Hi, I’m Aly. Tara’s ex. But you probably know all about that. Right Willow?” The redhead just stared at the offered hand for a second before adjusting her books to shake.

“Um, no…actually.” Willow managed around a tight smile, her eyes darting from Tara’s eyes to Aly to Aly’s hand at her waist. The hurt in her eyes was so deep it sent the blonde’s mind spinning. She could feel the redhead pulling away from her, withdrawing into herself.

“You’re kidding!” Aly exclaimed dramatically. “That’s strange ‘cause she’s told me all about you.”

It was vintage Aly. The girl had always kept Tara at arm’s length emotionally even when they were dating, but if the Tara showed the slightest interest in anyone else Aly suddenly became possessive and affectionate. And ‘slight’ was certainly not the word to describe her interest in Willow. All-consuming was possibly a fraction of it.

And the center of her world was now staring at her with a look that spoke of profound betrayal and deep pain. Aly’s insinuation was obviously working its way through the redhead’s powerful psyche and she could only imagine the cascade of negative conclusions she was reaching. Tara had hoped this moment would be about reconnecting, but it was quickly spinning into apocalypse territory.

“Oh.” Willow’s shoulders drooped and a deep crease formed between her eyes as she tried to look everywhere but at Tara. “Well, I’ve really gotta get to class.” A fake smile and Tara watched horrified as the redhead turned and nodded, her eyes dead. “Nice to meet you Aly.” She looked once at Tara, her mouth opened but she didn’t say a word. Just closed her mouth and turned away.

Her initial shock wearing off, Tara’s first impulse was to cry. How had things gone so impossibly wrong? Then suddenly without warning, she was just angry. Aly was one of her oldest friends and she owed her so much. If it hadn’t been for the self-confident girl’s friendship and not-so-gentle prodding she would probably still be at home working in her father’s house. She owed her so much, but Willow was walking away. The back of her red hair bobbing furiously as she stumbled slightly on the uneven pavement.

Peeling Aly’s hand off her waist, she called out to the fast-retreating redhead. “Willow wait!” and turned to Aly taking a deep breath. “I love you Aly,” she began and her ex-girlfriend smiled smugly. “But I don’t want to s-see you or t-talk to you for a l-long time.” She dropped her friend’s warm hand pointedly and held the girl’s dark eyes for a long, tense moment. “Okay?” the smile was gone in a moment replaced by a look of utter shock.

“Tar?” was all she managed before the blonde turned away and sprinted the short distance to the dazed redhead. There were tears in her beautiful green eyes and Tara used every ounce of her strength to keep her focus on Willow, to keep from turning and lambasting the brunette.

“Willow, I’m sorry…” she began only to be cut off by the redhead who was still backpedaling slowly as her eyes darted between Tara and what she hoped was the now-retreating backside of her former friend.

“No!” Willow was shaking her head her eyes skimming worriedly over the forms of students still streaming around them. “Really Tara, it’s okay. I understand…”

“Do you?” Tara asked softly, her voice breaking. Willow nodded but looked down. “Cause I want to t-talk to you ab-bout…”

“Look, I’m really sorry about everything I said in your room….” Willow interrupted and trailed off, kicking at something on the sidewalk. Tara felt the world constrict. Felt the cold deepen and gel around her. She was hurting Willow again, she could feel the hacker’s energy imploding. “I was…that was…” the redhead frowned and looked at her feet.

“Are you…s-sorry?” She asked carefully willing her body not to descend into sobs; willing her body and her battered heart to stay still. “Of course you are…” she managed finally understanding the redhead’s meaning. Willow hadn’t meant it. Any of it. It had been some sort of mistake. Some sort of miscommunication and Tara had just taken it the wrong way. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t m-mean it…what you s-said.”

Tara withdrew her hand and took a deep breath before looking at Willow. She expected relief, a smile and roll of the eyes, but the redhead was just staring at her with that same confused expression. As if she was trying to read something just behind the blonde’s head.

“Um, no.” she shook her head slowly and swallowed audibly. “I meant it.” She said it slowly, deliberately. Very un-Willowlike. Then the dam broke loose. “Unless you don’t want me to mean it. I mean, if I should be sorry…if you want me to be sorry, I will be because I don’t know how these things are supposed to work,” she began to babble then suddenly stopped, a slight frown forming on her face. “Anymore. You know what. No. That’s not…” and green eyes were suddenly holding her own with intensity. “Sorry is not what I am and that was something that I meant. Every word of it!” she said pointedly, her shoulders squaring into what Tara recognized as her resolve stance. “But it’s okay if you don’t want me to mean it,” the redhead’s tone softened and the blonde felt as if she might pass out from all the sudden changes in direction and altitude. “I mean, I understand that you don’t feel the same way about me as a girl, even though you like girls. You just don’t like this girl and that’s…that’s okay,” she looked away suddenly biting her lip. “So you don’t have to…have that talk. In fact, I’d really prefer if you didn’t…unless you need to ‘cause….”

“Willow.” Tara said the word to steady herself and was surprised to find the redhead looking at her expectantly, babble over. Carefully picking her way through the debris of their conversation the blonde fought desperately to find the meaning. When it hit her finally it was the thunderclap again – long and deafening and rolling across her in waves.

She meant it. Every word of it.

She knew she must be smiling, but she couldn’t seem to feel her face anymore. Except…tears. That must be the salty taste in her mouth. Wiping her eyes clumsily with the over-sized sleeve of her sweater she sniffed once and took a deep shuddering breath.

Be strong….for Willow. Like an amazon.

“I d-don’t n-not feel the s-same way, Willow.” Ducking her head she closed her eyes and swallowed back a sob. She couldn’t look at those green eyes now. If she did she’d be utterly lost.

“That’s a double negative.” Willow said quietly above her. Tara laughed and just nodded her head. “So…that, um, equals a positive?”

But you’re still a demon so…strong.

“I n-need…time Willow.” She managed finally and looked up to find Willow smiling a small terrified smile. The redhead’s forehead crinkled in confusion so she continued. “There are some th-things I n-need to s-sort out…” she trailed off unsure how to explain.

“Okay. Time. I can do that.” Willow nodded frantically, her eyes darting to the space where Aly had been. “Is it… I mean, I know it’s none of my business, but…”

“It has nothing to do with Aly,” Tara said firmly and the redhead let out a relieved sigh before smiling sheepishly.

“Good! I mean, not that it’s not okay if it was…about her,” she began and the blonde senses another desperate babblefest coming on.

“It’s f-family stuff.” She blurted out then looked at the ground again.

“If I can help…” Willow began and Tara felt the warm pressure of a small hand on her forearm. The relief of the redhead’s touch was overwhelming. “I want to.”

“You already are,” she said softly. “It’s just…I n-need to do this m-myself.”

“Okay,” the redhead squeezed her arm slightly, but didn’t let go. “So,” she began and Tara looked up at the playful sing-song in her love’s voice. “This ‘time’ we’re speaking of. Is it Willow-free time? I mean, should the avoidance thing continue…not that I’m admitting to any avoidance on my part mind you,” and Tara laughed out loud for the first time in days. It took all of her strength not to wrap her arms around the redhead. All she had hoped for from this ambush was friendship not…everything. Not this.

“D-definitely not W-Willow-free time,” Tara nodded firmly, her breath catching as Willow slid her hand down a sweatered arm and entwined their gloved fingers.

“And when you say time, are we talking about weeks? Or is this an hours thing? And is it negotiable because I was on the debate team for three whole weeks until I realized you actually had to debate in front of people, so I’m fully prepared to negotiate….” As Willow continued playfully babbling, Tara knew she should be thinking about the cold and the threat and the demon inside, but she couldn’t. Listening to the music of the redhead’s voice she finally allowed herself to sink completely into the moment, to let that small warm hand guide her gently away from the demon and the past…even if it was only for a few minutes.


End file.
